Hero of Ardania
by Numbuh six-sixtysix
Summary: When a council of magi summon Darrell into the myth-bound land of Ardania, he must become a hero to avoid almost certain death as well as outrageous taxes long enough for him to figure out how to return home. Cancelled for ... well, it's rubbish.
1. The Beginning

Yeah, so, I don't own Majesty. Everything found in the following fanfic is property of its respective owner.

Darrell was walking home from school, day dreaming yet again about Majesty. He had cheated at the game to build the ultimate city, comprising of every guild, plus a warriors guild for each of the three warrior types. To be specific, he was day dreaming about being one of the heroes. The online game, Heroes of Ardania, helped with that day dream, but, without any real time graphics, it could only do so much.

He had levelled up his warrior immensely, and few of the other classes held much interest for him. Paladin, maybe, swords and spells being the most awesome combination ever. Preistesses were good. All that undead magic was seriously cool. Warriors of Discord, or WoDs, as he called them, were just too insane, and the rest were either inhuman, too religious, or just plain weak.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Darrell looked up to see a huge rat crawling out of the sewer grate. It was absolutely massive, with teeth the size of his fist, and fleas hopping about on it like a circus. "What-?" Darrell blinked. There was no rat. Shaking his head, he carried on his way home.

Rounding the corner to his house, he saw none other than a troll attacking his home. Already the beams in the thatched roof of his cottage had given way, and soon nought would be left of his once proud home.  
Again, shaking his head, Darrell saw that there was no troll. His house was not a cottage, it was the usual two storey semi-detached house anyone in the modern world might live in.

Walking through the door, Darrell shouted "Mom, I'm home." "How was your day?" "Fine! Don't forget I need my suit for job interviews tomorrow!" With that, he went straight upstairs, to his computer. Bloody I.T coursework had kept him from playing the game at lunch, he was damned if he was going to miss an opportunity to play it now. Getting just to the top of the stairs, Darrell promptly dropped his bag ( from the looks of it, it was the child of a laptop bag and a breifcase ) and turned round, to answer the front door.

Downstairs again, Darrell opened the door to find... a rather chubby man in velvet robes, with a peculiar purple hat with a feather in it, stood, with a large sack that clinked nicely, and a scroll.  
"Ah, good, you're home. Let's see.." The Tax Collector consulted his scroll. " Tax of twenty percent, three months late, total of debt of two thousand gold peices."  
"Huh?" Darrell closed his eyes. This time, he knew, it was not just his bored imagination making him see things. The annoying person had actually _spoken_ to him. This was real. Yet, when he looked around for the second time, he saw nothing unusual. The Collector was not there. The house was a proper house. And judging from the excited whispering coming from behind the hedge, the kids from across the cul-de-sac were staying with their mom.  
"Bloody gits." But, then again, they had shown him something. Namely that he was working on his last marble.

"Mom, I think I'll skip dinner, go straight to bed."  
That instantly brought her running. "Darrell? You? Skipping dinner? What's wrong?"  
Darrell laughed. "On second thoughts, Mom, I'll try and stay awake for dinner. But I've had an exhausting day today, I want to go straight to bed after."  
"What, even before you have pudding?"  
They both laughed. "Perhaps some pudding as well. But then I really do need some sleep."


	2. The Night

Darrell awoke during the night with an immense sense of disquiet. There was something in his room that was... unnatural. He froze in bed, and concentrated hard. There was the ever present ticking of a clock, the source still unfound even after all the clocks had been replaced with digital ones, and even searches of his room and the next could not reveal the ever ticking clock. The sound of '_The Final Countdown' _ drifted in through the window. Darrell had heard that song played every night for many years, and knew for a fact that that particular neighbour ardently believed in the Mayan Calendar prophesies of the end of the world, with, of course, a few years give or take. So nothing unusual. But obviously, something was nearby that was not ... right. He could feel it in the very fibre of his being. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _There was the tree knocking on his window. Wait, hold on. That tree had been removed several years ago. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _The sound definitely was coming from the room. It couldn't be anything of his, if it had fallen it would have tapped once. Even if it was on a spring, it would have kept knocking until the energy was spent. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ There was absolutely nothing in his room that could make such a rhythmic knocking. Unless, perhaps, there was someone else in there. Darrell glanced around his room. The shadows seemed... darker, than normal, but otherwise they were perfectly explainable. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _There was only one place in his room that a person could hide. The wardrobe.

Darrell reached down, and grabbed the most usable object available. His telescope. Practically unused since being given to him, it was most probably the only thing in his room that could be utilised effectively as a weapon. Getting up, he slowly and stealthily made his way to the wardrobe. Which was a small miracle in itself, really, considering the explosion of junk which seemed to have taken place inside his room. Stopping outside the wardrobe, he listened again. There was not even a whisper of breath. Whoever was in there could either hold there breath for a really long time or was very quiet. _Or doesn't need to breathe. _Darrell mentally berated himself for the thought. Of course it needed to breathe. If it didn't breathe, it therefore had no need of oxygen, which in turn meant no need of respiration, which in turn meant it couldn't be more than an inanimate object.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ It was definitely in the wardrobe. Darrell drew a deep breath, and wrenched the door open. There, in his closet, was a skeleton. A six foot tall, bleached white, skeleton! It stood there, amongst his coats, gripping a huge mace. Then, it turned its death's head visage to face Darrell, and he saw that it emitted a dull, red glow from its eye sockets. Its brow twisted in a way that bone should find impossible, and suddenly it was glaring at the poor boy.

" Oh, hell." With that, Darrell thrust the telescope up, hitting the skeleton between the chin and the neck, popping its skull right off. The rest of the skeleton started to disintegrate, but the skull bounced off of the back of the closet, and out towards Darrell.  
Stepping back, he tripped over something, fell and banged his head against the wall. The darkness surged forth, and devoured his world.

Oh, wow. Two chapters and we're not even in Ardania yet. Oh, and whilst I remember, is an actual rpg based on Majesty, and anyone who enjoys this fic should join up and head to the library, as this writers' skill pales into insignificance next to some of the literary geniuses that have entire series up there.


	3. Welcome to Ardania

Darrell awoke slowly, tasting the blood in his mouth. He kknew he should jump to his feet, ready to flee lest any more abominations ambush him. However, the mists inside his head refused to part, and Darrell knew that, should he make any great efforts, the contents of his stomach would decorate the cold, stone floor, and leave him totally defenceless....Wait.....Cold...._Stone_....Floor?

"Don't worry, there shouldn't be any long lasting effects from the Dimensional Shift."

Darrell cracked open an eye, and saw, fuzzily, an old man stood nearby. Blinking, he saw that this was an ancient man, with a beard longer than some people were tall. Darrell also saw that this strange person was wearing a robe, some sort of wizards robe, if the runic symbols were anything to go on. Then again, it might also be some sort of meal delivery system, considering the sheer amount of food attached to the robes. Darrell jumped to his feet, looked around him, and promptly doubled over, but not before noticing the look of disappointment on the old man's face, and the fact that he was stood in the center of a circle of simnilarly dressed old people. Voices rang out around him.

"He's but a young whelp!"  
"What do you expect him to do?"  
"I said that the manifold core needed stabilising!"  
"That was a waste of my precious time, and you damn well know it!"  
"What insult is this, Gereth?!"

The first old man held up his hands. Know that there was no immediate threat of losing his breakfast, Darrell noticed that this one had slightly better robes than the others.

"Brothers, please! We knew the spell may not work. Obviously we shall need to make some changes. First, however, we have plucked a child from his home world, and we must ensure he is caredd for until we can return him."

"You mean if! Those shift flux parameters were so loose, we could have pulled him from almost anywhere!"

"In that case, we will introduce him to the Guilds and Temples, as is only fitting, and he may choose where he wishes to. Whilst he is in our care, we will have one of the apprentices look after him."

It finally filtered through to Darrell that these people were not going to talk to him unless he attracted their attention.

"Yeah, um, 'scuse me for this, but, where am I?"  
The elderly wizard rounded on him, a smile so wide it was almost discernible underneath his huge beard.

"Why, my dear boy, welcome to Ardania."


	4. RIP This Fic

Quite frankly, I will be surprised if there is anyone left to actually read this. That, of course, is my own fault – I haven't exactly been the most prolific of authors. Still, I am not the sort of person to leave 'on hiatus' signs on a story – if it's dead, I'll mark it as such. And this is the official tombstone for the story. I'll admit, writing this was fun, and getting feedback from people saying how much they enjoyed it was awesome.

Unlike most of my other fics, this is being cancelled due to the fact it is simply horrible. I did not start this fic out of love for the fandom. I am not ending this fic out of disassociation from the fandom. Truly, I do beleive this particular fandom will be with me until the day I day... or the day Paradox manage to screw it up even more than they have already (Majesty 2 is _NOT CANON_!). There is a small possibility I may rewrite this in the future, but I wouldn't hold your breath. I'm sorry.


End file.
